


Empatía

by ghirahimuwu



Category: The Legend of Zelda: Hyrule Warriors, The Legend of Zelda: Skyward Sword, The Legend of Zelda: Twilight Princess
Genre: <3 love yall, M/M, i hope any of you gay memers enjoy this, if you were expecting anything else from me i'm like super sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-29
Updated: 2016-06-29
Packaged: 2018-07-18 22:57:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7334047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghirahimuwu/pseuds/ghirahimuwu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Understanding is a path paved by those involved. For that reason, a miracle is never likely to happen. For two people to truly understand each other (two deeply troubled people, at that) it takes time, work, and words. No magical connections will work.<br/>It all takes hard work; but it's always a pleasure to harvest its results.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Empatía

Battle-worn and heavy bodies fell down onto the soft welcoming mattress with a mixture of jaded resignation and enthusiasm. It had been a particularly heavy day out on the field, and everyone retired to rest, no victory ensued. Whatever both armies were, they could plan truces fairly well.  
The two fighters were thankful even for such a small break: it was all they needed.

When they arrived to the bed, the silver-haired one of them had already doffed off the blood that covered his face and clothes. Providing a perfect contrast, the other man still reeked of iron, sweat and magic. Without making a sound, both accomodated their frames around pillows and cushions.

Silence lasted until the birth of sighs and of the sound of joints popping, and was then made anew like in a wordless agreement. Seconds passed like that, and neither dared utter a single word.

Finally, it was Ghirahim who spoke; -hair shining like his eyes- and he did it with the tone of the full moon: absolute, and breathtaking. Even the toads outside made reverencial silence to the sound of his voice.

"We could have done so much better..."  
Zant's orange eyes received those words half-lidded in distrust (perhaps a hint of his easily-engaged protectiveness).  
Of course they could have done better. Their entire army had been gravely impaired the day before, losing half its volume, yet Ghirahim felt like they had underperformed.

Zant responded in with incidence, voice stern. Even if he was annoyed by his lover's exigency, it had taken him quite some time of bonding to get Ghirahim to be fully honest with him and reveal what he truly felt beneath his mask of full-time irritability. He found he liked Ghirahim way more like that and, sadly, that meant he encouraged him to complain without even realizing.  
"You _are_ right, but the way we performed was to be expected. Without all the moblins, we only have half our army. This brawl was unfair, Ghirahim! Instead of sulking, we could take it as an invitation to return the favor."

"Hmm..." But Ghirahim wasn't so easily going to receive his partner's advice. Every curve of his body, every contraction his muscles made when he tensed, looked away and finally turned around spoke so blatantly about his mood that even Zant could read into the silence.  
Even with such clear hints, however, Zant couldn't place the exact nature of Ghirahim's bad mood... and that terminated his desire to brighten it. Omission quite clearly wasn't going to help either, for Ghirahim tended to accumulate anger if he didn't talk it out.

Thus, Zant heaved a sigh and sat on the bed. A pillar of soft cushions supported the Twili's flexible back, and later the added weight of Ghirahim's body.  
"I need to know how you are feeling..."

It must have taken Ghirahim a lot of self control to not deadpan at Zant, judging by the way his frame tensed up as he settled into his lover's embrace.  
"Like complete and utter waste."

"Well... at least we are honest." deft fingers traced the curtain of hair that rarely left Ghirahim's face. Zant definitely did not chuckle, even if he had half the mind to. Such an attempt to brighten up the mood would be met by a death glare from Ghirahim.

But, apparently, he had picked up quite well on his concealed chuckle.  
"So you now believe this is a joke?" 

Despite the viperine tone, he was ever settling into the comfortable nest Zant's arms provided. He, likewise, continued to massage Ghirahim's hair (flawless as ever, unaware of any and all battling), later descending onto his shoulders to trace the metal of his muscles.

For a couple of seconds, both were silent. Ghirahim's moue did not give in, and his furrowed brow was Zant's biggest judge. Under that burning gaze, the Usurper gathered his entire patience, willpower and love; to later focus them into a single sentence:

"Do you suppose that is what I am doing?"

With those words, Zant hadn't expected Ghirahim to calm. Much less, actually. In theory, he should have known it would happen, but that gaze had hurt him so much his only priority was to keep him from those thoughts.  
Never in his life would Zant deem one of Ghirahim's worries a joke.

With those words, Zant had tried to convey that, and that only.  
Yet he was rewarded by melting eyes, a wrinkled nose, and a Ghirahim who didn't quite know where to put his emotions.

"By Demise, Zant, no. Excuse me if I... still don't know how to take my anger out without being such a sulk."  
Out of mixed emotions, Zant's hands stopped their motion and lay draped over his shoulders. Ghirahim probably took that as a cue to lift his hands and touch Zant's fingers. His horrible, uneven fingers.  
What he was feeling consisted of a fair blend of glee, affection and a tad of pain. The middle of his chest burned with Ghirahim's words, every portion of his skin being traveled by a chill.

For the first time since they had met, Ghirahim was actually offering an apology.  
Zant doubted he was giving himself too much credit by thinking he had influenced that. By any and all means, Ghirahim was changing in his company. And he was too.

"Tell me when you are upset. Tell me what bothers you. I shall hear." Zant croaked out, nuzzling the whole extent of his face against Ghirahim's head, from his sharp cheekbones, to his forehead and finally his most sensitive lips.

"Oh, I will."  
Ghirahim was smiling into his affectionate caressing, subtly craning and angling himself to receive more of it. When his plump stark white lips finally brushed up against Zant's, they were chest-to-chest. "Though it is only fair that I return the favor..."

To the fading of those words, Ghirahim began a massage, almost kneading Zant's neck with his fingers. It felt so delectably intimate... Zant would rather have moments like those for the eternity, than any rough bedroom affair.  
So lost in his pleasure he was, that he did not notice the deep thrum his chest emitted. Ghirahim, however, did. He in fact took great pleasure in hearing it.  
"I'm all ears, my dearest."

Zant didn't have much time to process the situation. But Ghirahim was ignoring the odors in his lover's body -that of blood, sweat and magic residue- in favor of a moment of proximity.  
It felt like their souls, rather than their bodies, were the ones touching.

**Author's Note:**

> / I should be writing my fic but instead I'm doing this...   
>  anyway, empatía means empathy in spanish in case you were wondering?? /


End file.
